


Wanted: Cuddle Buddy

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, grumpy!Phil, post-mission cuddles, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:39:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Grudgingly, Phil opened his eyes and came face to face with one of the last people he wanted to see.  Usually, Phil had no problem with Jasper Sitwell and even counted the other agent among his closest friends.  Right now, however, Phil would have prefered to have seen the face of his husband, not Jasper’s grin.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Phil gets injured during a mission and when he wakes up in Medical, all he wants to see is his husband, Clint.  And maybe get a cuddle.  Unfortunately, Clint has his own problems.</p><p>Luckily, it's nothing that gets in the way of a good cuddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanted: Cuddle Buddy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth/gifts), [Selori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selori/gifts).



> Thank you to Sevencorvus for giving me the original prompt that started this idea!! This one is for Selori, who needed some fluff. And to Kisleth, who definitely needed some fluff. This might not have been the wing!fic you meant, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :)

Phil Coulson wondered if he could telepathically command one of the nursing staff to give him another dose of morphine so he could go back to sleep.  Pain was already hovering around the edges of his consciousness as he slowly came awake and frankly, his shoulder was already hurting like a bitch.  If that was what waking up would be like, he wasn’t having any of it.  Stubbornly, Phil tried to hold on to unconsciousness.  Around him, the beeping of medical equipment and the suspiciously familiar sounds of SHIELD Medical grew in volume until that was virtually impossible.

“I know you’re awake, Sleeping Beauty, so you can quit the act,” an unsympathetic voice told him.

His brain might have been fuzzy, but Phil recognized who was camped out at his bedside.  Considering it wasn’t the archer Phil had been hoping for, Jasper could just stuff it.  A moment later, he let out a pained yelp as a cold hand pried open his eyelid just to shine a giant spotlight into it.  Phil felt as if his brains were going to explode out his ears and it only got worse when the devil tormenting him did the same trick with his other eye.  When the demon with the bright light was done, Phil squeezed his eyes shut again, as if that would somehow prevent Jasper from disturbing him.

“Come on, Phil,” Jasper said, sounding very amused.  “Wakey wakey.”

Grudgingly, Phil opened his eyes and came face to face with one of the last people he wanted to see.  Usually, Phil had no problem with Jasper Sitwell and even counted the other agent among his closest friends.  Right now, however, Phil would have prefered to have seen the face of his husband, not Jasper’s grin.  Or, for that matter, Dr Streiten’s patient exasperation over Jasper’s shoulder, either.

At least it wasn’t Stark.

“Shut up, Jasper,” Phil grumbled -- or at least he tried to, but his throat was sore and his voice was little more than a rasp.

Jasper rolled his eyes as Phil started coughing.  “Drink,” Jasper said, holding out a cup with a straw.

Phil lifted his head a little and took a sip of blissfully cool water that eased his raw throat.  When he felt like he could talk again, he looked up at Jasper.  “What happened?” he asked.

“How much do you remember?” Jasper replied, before waving his free hand as he put the cup down again.  “Never mind.  Don’t answer that.  It’s probably too horrifying.  All I’ve heard was that your mission to Belize went south and you and May ended up having to fight three giant, mutated swamp creatures while Agents Ward and Fitz built a flamethrower out of plastic piping and something I’m not even going to try to pronounce.”

Squinting a little, Phil glared at Jasper for a minute.  “You weren’t there,” he accused.

Jasper rolled his eyes again.  “Yeah, I know and I’m very grateful for that,” he replied.  “I haven’t missed being part of your team and the way you always get yourself involved in the weirdest shit, Phil.”

“That he does,” the amused voice of Nick Fury chimed in.

Phil turned his head so he could glare at his oldest friend.  Nick was standing in all his leather-coated glory in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.  Usually Phil liked having visitors to break up the monotony of recovering in Medical, because in truth it was nice to know people cared, but where the hell was Clint?

“Don’t tell me you were worried about me, Boss,” he said to Nick, instead of demanding to know where his husband was like he wanted to.

Nick snorted, even though there was some deep emotion hiding in his gaze.  “Why would I be worried about an asshole like you?” he replied.

“Bite me, Marcus,” Phil shot back.

“Nobody is biting anyone until my patient gets better,” Streiten interrupted from the background where he was writing something on Phil’s chart.

Silence fell for a moment and Phil stubbornly refused to let his eyes slide shut.  Jasper looked over at Nick with a speculative smile.  “Hey, Director.  Want to place bets on how long he’s going to stay in that bed voluntarily?”

Nick’s expression was pointed.  “Not really.  He’s conscious now, so there’s no sport in it.”

“I am right here, you know,” Phil grumbled, feeling a little left out at the knowing smirks on both Nick and Jasper’s faces.

“So you are,” Nick said.

Phil scowled and shut his eyes.  “I’m sleeping now, so I’m going to ignore you two assholes.  Please feel free to leave,” he muttered.

Jasper said something very sarcastic in reply and Phil could hear Nick’s reply, but everything slid away like grains of sand as soon as his eyes slid shut.  Phil yawned, sleep dragging at him.  He attempted to mumble something, but he doubted it was audible, and since the pain was fading, he didn’t really care.  He must have fallen asleep, because the room was shadowed when he next opened his eyes and from the lack of footsteps outside his room, Phil figured it was probably some time in the middle of the night.  Cracking open his eyes, Phil gazed around the room and tried to work out what had woken him up.

“See?  I told you he’d be sleeping.”  The words were little more than a hiss, but that was Clint’s voice.  Phil would know it anywhere.

“Agent Coulson scoffs at the need for sleep,” Natasha’s voice replied, making no attempt to lower the volume or hide her presence.  “Agent Coulson can last for weeks on only coffee and the power his glare.”

There was a pause.  “You know, Nat,” Clint said flatly.  “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Natasha countered.  “Also, Phil’s awake now, so go say hello.”

Clint gasped and there was the sound of stumbling footsteps as Natasha no doubt forcibly shoved him into Phil’s room.  Blinking as his husband came into view, Phil smiled.  That was better.  Clint was here now.  Phil could sleep, because Clint would watch over him.  Phil might even be lucky enough to get Clint to climb onto the bed and give him a cuddle because those wings looked amazingly soft and warm, and Phil was kind of cold, actually.

Wait a minute.

Wings.

“Am I hallucinating?” Phil asked.

Clint shot him a sheepish look and reached up to rub at the back of his neck.  Behind him, a large set of dark wings unfurled from his back, stretching out as if Clint wanted to show them off despite his clear embarrassment at the situation.  The wings themselves shimmered slightly in the dim light, the feathers sleek and glossy, and Phil had a sudden impulse to reach out and _touch_.  He wasn’t entirely sure what colour the feathers were, but they were dark enough to be black or close to it, and they looked unbelievably soft.  “No bird jokes, okay?” Clint said, obviously trying to make light of things.  “I’ve already heard them all from Stark.”

“Okay, no bird jokes then,” Phil agreed.  “How about cuddles?”

Phil, being a grown man and a seasoned SHIELD agent, did not make grabby hands at his husband, but it was a near thing.

Clint shook his head slightly.  His shoulders were hunched and there was a tension running through him that Phil usually associated with Clint about to go against orders or disappear for three days.  Or, on one memorable occasion, both.  “What’s wrong?” Phil asked, trying to clear the fuzzy cotton wool from his head.

Clint waved a hand.  “I have _wings_ , Phil,” he said, something dark and bitter flashing through his eyes.  It made Phil’s chest ache.

“You know it doesn’t matter to me, right?” Phil said quietly.  “Wings or no wings.  I love you, I will always love you, no matter what.”  When Clint remained standing where he was, much too far away from Phil, Phil sighed.  “I _promised_ I always would,” he said, images of their wedding day dancing through his mind.  “In front of Nick Fury and my _mother_ , no less.”

“Phil…” Clint said helplessly, his eyes wide and dark.

“Now come here and give me a damn cuddle,” Phil grumbled.

An invisible weight seemed to lift from Clint’s shoulders as he took a step towards Phil’s bed, a smile beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth.  “It’s all about the cuddles, huh?” he said.

Phil nodded, before giving in and reaching out for Clint.  Clint took his hand, tangling their fingers together, as he leaned down to press his lips gently to Phil’s.  “You are such a dork sometimes,” he said fondly.

“You love me anyway,” Phil replied, distracted.

This close and with the light streaming in through the door, Phil could see the purple sheen on the feathers of Clint’s wings.  He stared at them for a long moment, mesmerised by the way they shifted as Clint breathed.  Before he could stop himself, Phil stretched out his free hand, his fingertips brushing against the feathers.  Clint jerked back in surprise and Phil immediately dropped his hand.  “Sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s okay.  I mean…”  Clint said, running a hand through his hair.  “You want to touch them?  This isn’t too weird?”

Phil snorted.  They were SHIELD agents.  They lived in weird.  “Your wings are beautiful,” Phil said.  “I’d love to touch them if you’ll let me.”

Ducking his head, Clint smiled as a blush stole across his face.  Phil bit his lip as thoughts of how endearingly adorable his husband was bubbled up, because he was on morphine and tired enough that he couldn’t guarantee he’d keep those thoughts to himself.  Kicking off his boots, Clint moved to sit on the edge of the bed, before he hesitated.  The weight of his new wings was clearly keeping Clint off-balance in more ways than one, his movements strangely awkward and lacking in his usual confident grace.  Phil knew that if he had to, Clint would get used to it, because Clint was a survivor and one of the strongest people Phil had ever met.  Because Clint was close and because Phil was hoping it would help, he stretched out his hand again, this time trailing his fingers down several long feathers.  They were as soft as they looked and Phil lost a little time as he stroked them.  When he finally glanced up, Clint had his eyes closed and his lips were parted, a look of blissful happiness on his features.  “Feels good, huh?” Phil asked.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, slitting open his eyes to look at Phil.  “Really good.  I would, in fact, like to revisit how good it feels when you’re not in Medical anymore.”

Phil huffed out a laugh.  “Clint, come here.”

Together, they carefully maneuvered Clint until he was sprawled out beside Phil, his head resting on Phil’s uninjured shoulder.  One of Clint’s strong arms wrapped around Phil’s waist, his fingers linked with Phil’s, while Phil’s other hand slid underneath the soft fabric of Clint-t-shirt to rest on the warm skin of Clint’s back.  The wings were slightly more awkward -- Clint had curled one of them up so he could fit on the bed, but the other was still stretched out, as if Clint wasn’t sure what to do with it.  “Umm…” Clint mumbled into the hospital gown at Phil’s shoulder.  “It never looks this stupid when it happens in the movies.”

Phil chuckled softly.  He ran a soothing hand up Clint’s back, his hand ending up resting between where he felt the wings spring from Clint’s shoulderblades.  The small fluffy feathers tickled as Phil brushed his fingers over the spot and he smiled at the shiver that went through Clint’s whole body.  Phil pressed firmer and Clint relaxed bonelessly against him with a sigh.  “Oh, that’s _good_ ,” he said.

When Clint had relaxed, his other wing had dropped until it was draped over Phil, the soft feathers fluttering slightly against the back of Phil’s hand where it was tangled with Clint’s.  Phil shivered at both the touch and the sudden warmth that blanketed him.  “Sorry,” Clint muttered.

“No, don’t move it,” Phil said, cracking open an eye he wasn’t even aware he’d shut.  “It’s warm.  Safe.”

“Yeah?” Clint said hopefully.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, sleep pulling at him again.  “It’s you.”

Clint cuddled closer, burying his nose in the space between Phil’s shoulder and neck and wrapping his wing more firmly around Phil.  Warming up, Phil smiled.  This was the best blanket _ever_.  “Sleep, Phil,” Clint said fondly.  “I’ll watch over you.”

Phil hummed happily.  “You always do.”

****

Fin.


End file.
